Reasonable Doubt
by Chevy Nova
Summary: Secrets. Lies. A past mistake. When the Nightwatcher returns, one brother is trapped in the battle to overcome his own personal demons. Wrought by confusion and hurt, his family struggles to save him from his delusion...if he wants to be saved at all.
1. One

Reasonable Doubt

**Disclaimer:** I do not own TMNT. I make no profit from this story.

**Author's Note:** This story contains no slash/incest. There will be mild to extreme cursing on rare occasions throughout different chapters. Everything takes place not long after the 4th TMNT movie, though I have adjusted April and Casey to be more in line with their personalities from the 1st film.

Thank you for taking the time to read my fic! I began writing this many years ago and have not forgotten it. I am extremely grateful to all my previous reviewers and watchers, your kind have words have really inspired me not to abandon this project, and I'm really excited to read and discuss with any new readers as well! This story has been my pet project for a number of months now as I have completed the entire first draft, and I really hope readers will find it just as thrilling as I do.

Enjoy!

-oOo-

Leonardo supposed it was his fault.

And the more he thought about it, the more he was certain of this, so he could only continue to force himself to remain patient with his younger brother.

After all, it had been his suggestion to Donatello to set up a security camera system around his most frequently visited dumpsters. He had hoped that in doing so, Don might exponentially cut back on his lone trips topside in his various attempts to find some new part or gadget he always seemed to be in need of.

Likewise, Leo was also quite aware that had the cameras not been installed in the first place, Don would have done the sensible thing and waited until after the harsh storm had passed before making his visit up top. However, after the tech-savvy turtle spied a recently dumped load from the local electronic store, it was obviously clear he was determined to make the journey topside, lest the gadgets be rendered completely useless from the recent downpour.

With what felt like the hundredth sigh uttered that evening, he reached up and wiped away the dripping water from his eyes. Though his actions were in vain as the pounding rain only poured onto his face relentlessly. The older turtle gritted his teeth as another fierce chill passed through his body. Squinting, he tilted his head back. He could only see the gray, thick clouds blanketing the sky, concealing the tops of the taller buildings of the bustling city.

As another severe shiver shot through him, Leo couldn't help but think it an interesting reaction, as he had always assumed he, as his brothers, were more cold-blooded than not. They all seemed to fare a lot worse in the winter than in summer, and he wondered why Donatello, in all his extreme curiosity of the world, had never once thought to settle this mystery once and for all.

It didn't take long for him to pull up a memory from ten years earlier to stifle that question. A time when a rather irritated Master Splinter had reprimanded a budding young "doctor" Donatello from attempting to extract blood for experimentation from a sleeping Raphael.

Raphael hadn't been overly pleased with the whole experience either.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Leonardo glanced down once more from where he was perched on the lip of the dumpster. His gaze fell on the crouched form of his sibling below. He frowned as he could clearly see the goose bumps raised all along Don's arms. Scooting a few inches to the left, Leo cleared his throat in hopes of catching the others' attention, already knowing it was useless.

"Come on Don, you've had enough time. Wrap it up. It's time to go."

"Yeah Leo, I just need five more minutes."

Leo had long since given up trying to tell time when it came to any of his brother's losing themselves in their own little worlds. But even he knew that Don's internal clock couldn't be that messed up.

"Don, I've given you over two hours more than what we agreed upon. That's way longer than we need to be up here. Now hurry up."

This time, the younger turtle lifted his head, a look of exasperation etched into his face.

"Leo, the whole reason it's taking this long is a direct result of you rushing me. If you had not been so impatient, I would not have dropped and lost this thing in the first place."

Shifting from where he perched, Leo tried to hold back another sigh. He nodded.

"Alright," he muttered as he hopped down, landing nimbly besides his brother. "Fine, then tell me what it is you're even looking for anyway."

"I'm not entirely sure."

An intense twitching overtook Leo's left eye and he suddenly understood Mikey's concern that it would someday pop right out of his head completely. "Come again?"

"I only saw it for a moment before I dropped it, but it looked unlike anything I'm really too familiar with. Its shape sort of resembles a soda bottle with a spoon through the opening, if that helps your search any. But it's a lot smaller than a soda bottle, obviously. It's more of a gray color than true black, and- "

Leo didn't allow the babbling turtle to finish his sentence as he reached out instead and latched onto Don's arm, yanking him to his feet. "Don, you don't even know what this thing is. So it's safe to say, no one else does either, or even that it's here. You can come and look for it tomorrow, after it's stopped raining. Now let's _go_."

Don had pulled away almost instantly, just as Leo had expected. The brief moment of contact had been all Leo needed to feel just how cold his younger brother's skin actually was and the frown on Leo's face deepened. He couldn't ignore the fact that of the four of them, Donatello had always had the weakest immune system. And it had only worsened within the last five years. Leo also knew that they also still had a long trek back through the damp sewers -another strike against Don's health.

"Go back if you want. Do you really not trust me to stay out for just a couple more hours on my own?"

The flatness that had crept into Don's voice forced Leo silent. He paused to stare into Don's face.

Neither of them wanted to say it.

After all, Raph went topside often, usually against Leo's wishes. Although it was an undeniable help in easing his temper at times, typically in the form of seeing a movie or "busting some skulls" down in Central Park, he had long since ceased in seeking out any type of permission for doing so. Mikey had also taken to venturing into the city almost on a daily basis, as his former job had required, upon which he had not quite fully shaken the habit.

"Don, this has nothing to do with trust."

"Yes it does. You don't believe I am capable of defending myself alone on the extremely slim off-chance I should happen upon trouble."

This time, Don's words stung. Leo forced his jaw shut and stared quietly at the other. Don's eyes narrowed sharply, but it was gone in a moment as he returned to his previous scanning of the trash below.

Leo closed his eyes as Don had looked away from him. He measured his breathing and tried to focus on loosening the muscles in the back of his neck and shoulders.

"It isn't very often that I ask you to come up here with me." Don continued, "Yet when I do, this is the reaction that I get? So, is it just because I'm an easier target to leash in than Raph, or have you just given up completely in trying to control him?"

It took almost all of Leo's willpower to keep his hands from bunching into fists as his eyes snapped back open at the sound of Don's quiet voice.

"Don," he began, forcing his tone to remain even, "you know better than anyone that I don't approve of Raphael's trips up here. Not before and not now. But you also have to understand that, well, you and he are two entirely different situations."

Don's eyes narrowed as he visibly stiffened.

"I see. So the fact that Raph is out gallivanting like some kind of vagabond at all hours of the night is perfectly acceptable. It certainly makes absolute sense that you should just ignore any rule he breaks and focus on trying to control me instead."

"It's because he_ does _know more than you," Leo hissed tightly through clenched teeth, "At least up here anyway. He's stronger than you, and more experienced at making his way around the city. That doesn't mean that I approve of everything he does, but, while I hate to admit it, he knows his way around the city better than any of us, Don." He finished off, trying not to sound too exasperated.

Leo unintentionally flinched under the cold glare of his younger brother. He held his palms open, helplessly.

"I'm just trying to protect you, Don."

"When did I say I ever wished for your protection?"

Don had practically whispered the words, but for all Leo knew, they had been screamed inside his skull. He fell quiet as he noticed the sickening similarities the angry words and pouring rain held of a painful memory that he'd rather sooner forget than repeat.

A quiet shuffling noise caused Don's eyes to flicker over as he saw Leo bend over the garbage.

"So, you said a soda bottle with a spoon?"

-oOo-

A loud, throaty cough echoed down the long, cold sewer and Leo's footsteps slowed for the fifth time since he and Donatello had left the dumpster. It took a lot of effort to keep from frowning, and even more effort not to lecture. Instead, all he could do was wait as patiently as possible for Don to finish coughing before they could continue on.

He reached over and gently brushed off a small tick nestled on Don's arm. The dumpster had been infested with a myriad of the insects, and it hadn't taken Leo long to realize how much they agitated his already ailing brother.

The icy chillness of Donatello's skin only made Leo all the more impatient to get back to the lair and warm up. He knew Don had a cold at the very least, and he wasn't willing to wait around and let it develop into something worse. After a few more seconds, Don's painful coughs began to subside and Leo slowly resumed navigating their way down the damp passageway.

A comforting, warm blast of air greeted the two as the heavy door to the lair slid open, revealing the reassuringly familiar room within.

There were two inhabitants already seated in what made up the living room, but only one pair of tender golden brown eyes lifted up in a silent greeting as Master Splinter was able to avert his attention from the chess game he was currently engaged in with his second eldest. Raphael, who was in one of his rare, quieter moods, kept his sole focus on the game board spread before him. Slowly, he reached forward, brushed his fingers against one of the pawn pieces, and then quickly withdrew, resuming his meditative stare of intense concentration once again.

Splinter didn't speak, opting instead to watch in silence as Leo steered his younger brother to the kitchen, sitting him on one of the stools. Even from the distance, Splinter's old eyes were sharp enough to pick out the numerous small nicks that littered Donatello's arms and legs. He let out an almost inaudible sigh.

He knew that of his four sons, Leonardo and Donatello were usually the most cautious when it pertained to those types of things and it troubled him when both returned coated in water, or how Don continued to shiver. He decided to allow his eldest to finish tending to his brother in silence. He did happen to notice, however, that Don seemed to be paying exceptional care to the burlap sack he used to carry his "treasures" with, though Splinter said nothing of it as he watched the younger turtle slightly pull away from the blanket Leo now attempted to place around his shoulders.

Splinter turned back just in time to see Raphael take his turn. Reaching forward, Splinter moved his own pawn without hesitance.

"Checkmate."

Raph's eyes widened, fists clenching as a single vein of frustration popped on his forehead. His head snapped forward, and he stood up so hard his chair was almost knocked backwards.

Splinter slowly lifted himself from his seat, as Raphael gripped both ends of the table.

"Rematch."

Splinter hid a smile, as he continued to walk away.

"Not tonight, my son. It is already very late. I must turn in for the night and I advise you to do the same."

He paused for a moment, watching his second eldest slump down to his chair, eying the chess game, mumbling under his breath, no doubt replaying the game in his mind. He turned back to the two turtles in the kitchen. Making eye contact with Leonardo, they shared a mutual understanding, before Splinter turned his gaze to the other teenager seated before him.

Don, however, was so consumed with cleaning up his various cuts along his arm he didn't even notice. The rat had no reaction to this, giving only a soft, "Good night, my sons." before closing the door after him in silence.

Pushing away from the chess game with a disgusted grunt, Raph turned around in his seat and leaned up against the back of the old, worn in sofa. He looked a bit smug as he glanced to his older brother, "That was just a little bit longer than twenty minutes, don't ya think Leo?"

Intrigued by the glare that Leo threw his way, though completely unfazed by it, he instead turned his attention to their younger brother. He straightened up when he noticed just how battered up Don seemed to actually be. Shaking his head he gave a low whistle, which in turn earned him another scowl from Leo.

"Damn Donnie," Raph muttered, still ignoring the annoyed noises that continued to emerge from the oldest turtle, "What the hell happened to ya?"

"Broken bottles," Don answered before Leo could speak, "the shards of glass were everywhere."

Raph's curiosity was piqued even more now. What was so important that would have his little brother digging through glass shards? Before he could ask, Don spoke up.

"Where's Mike?"

An awkward silence clamped down on the room and for a moment all Leo and Raph did was stare, each with their own gazes of curiosity and guardedness, while Donatello continued to bandage up his arms.

Fortunately, the stillness only lasted a few seconds. Almost as if knowing his cue, the door to the lair slid open once more and the youngest bounced in, flipping his skateboard up into his left hand, the other clutching a reasonably soggy Domino's pizza box.

"Hey dudes! I'm… uh, I'm back!"

Mikey's usual jovial greeting faltered slightly at the three stares he was greeted with. He stepped forward, shooting a questioning glance over to Raph, since Don had been very quick to look away from him, and he was trying to avoid the frustrated look Leo was shooting his way.

He tried to nonchalantly step around Leonardo in order to slide the pizza box onto the table. Unfortunately, Mikey wasn't very good at reading Raph's facial cues, and he didn't manage to step away before Leonardo reached out, grasping a firm grip on the back of his shell, and gave him a sharp jerk back.

"Mikey," Leo snapped, "Where were you? You said you were going to get dinner. That was before Don and I even left!"

The smaller turtle grimaced and cast a pleading look over to Raph, who had yet to move from his position on the sofa. Raph only shrugged and looked back at Don. Mikey gave a small groan as his helpless eyes scanned the room before realizing there was no one to save him.

"I-" his voice suddenly cut off as he noticed Don's arms for the first time. "Whoa! What happened to you, bro? You look like you've been eaten alive! Nasty!"

Mikey stepped forward, effectively slipping from Leo's grasp, circling behind Don and pausing as he peered in closely, "Ew! You got bites all over your neck too! Mondo-gross out!"

"Go _away_, Mike." Don huffed, as he pushed his personal-space invading brother away from his neck.

"And you didn't answer me," Leo interjected. "Where were you?"

Mikey's eyes widened as he suddenly waved his arms. "Did you know they opened up a penny arcade over on 3rd street? Just a penny Leo! That's like- do you know how long I can stick around on just a dollar?"

He paused when he noticed Leo's unaltered expression, and gave a shrug, "Geez, what's the big deal? I thought we'd worked this out? I mean, Raph goes up all a time-"

"Leave me out of this."

"and it's fine! You know, it's not like I would get in any sort a trouble, I'm not that dumb. Chill out Leo."

Rolling his eyes, Mikey brushed past Leonardo as he made his way to the fridge, pulling out a soda and popping it open.

Leo said nothing, but was painfully aware of the stabbing glare sent his way from the Don, who had finished up with the last of his bandages. He purposefully tried to avoid Don's stare, keeping his attention on Mikey, though he was feeling ridiculously out of sorts as he struggled to find a proper response.

Without a word, Don abruptly pushed away from the table, the legs of his chair making a loud screech against the floor as he stood.

Mikey's eyes widened as the door to Donatello's room gave a tight click shut after him.

"Dude, what's the matter with Donnie?"


	2. Two

**Reasonable Doubt Chapter 2**

The drizzle that had begun during Leo and Don's topside excursion had been only the preliminary to a full-blown downpour. Fortunately, Master Splinter had long since instructed his sons on the necessary measures in preventing a total flooding of the lair. Although the torrents of rain were more than enough to force even the jumpiest and grouchiest turtle to remain underground.

Leo valiantly attempted to soothe Don's ever increasingly cranky disposition. The guilt from his dumpster-diving debate with his typically aloof sibling had manifested in the need to offer his assistance at every possible avenue since that night.

Unfortunately, the eldest turtle did not seem to grasp that his constant hovering presence around his younger brother was merely tolerated at best, apparently overlooking the warning signs to remain outside of Don's lab.

Leo finally received the boot after he accidently knocked over a can of soda onto a pile of pebbles stacked precariously on the corner of the desk. His defense, that he was merely trying to inspect the detailed markings etched into the peculiar device they had discovered back at the dumpster, were wholly ignored. Instead, Don snatched the object from Leo's grasp, along with a fistful of the soaking rocks and a few choice words to his older brother, before storming off into Splinter's private quarters, slamming the doors behind him.

Leo ruefully kept his distance thereafter.

Inevitably, events continued to spiral downhill from there. Don's cold, a token from his earlier stint in the freezing rain, refused to fully develop the rest of the week.

Instead, the lurking chills subsided enough to allow him to engage in daily training with his brothers, while still continuing to wrack his thin body with enough dull aches and coughs to leave him, as well as absolutely everyone else around him, utterly miserable.

Unsurprisingly, the usual outlet of roughhousing was growing more and more appealing. Such discoveries were demonstrated after Raph trapped Mikey in a headlock for a full fifteen minutes. This in turned allowed Leo to climb atop of his shell with a triumphant battle cry, offering the opportunity that even Don couldn't resist to include his own jab or two to their belligerent youngest brother.

On the eighth day, Splinter kicked them all out.

The rain had begun to let up just enough for the sewers to be passable, an invitation even the aged rat could not ignore to rest his weary ears from his unusually cantankerous child and increasingly rowdy brothers.

As it turned out, it was relatively easy for the four restless teenagers to forget all transgressions from the past few days once the relative freedom of open sewers and boards with wheels presented itself. Within minutes, Splinter was returning to his room in peace as the excited whoops and hollers of his sons echoed through the lair as they careened off down the sewers.

In spite of his earlier moodiness and ambiguous health, Don was quick to bring himself up to the front of the pack.

"Move it or lose it, Don!" Mikey shouted as he inched his way closer, still a good couple feet behind, "You're slowin' me down, bro!"

Don smirked as he propelled himself faster, further widening the gap between them as the cold air whipped his face and brought a cascade of goose bumps along his arms, "Mikey please," he called back, "I've been in a coma all week and I could still wax your shell."

"Dude, what is this, 1984?" Mikey quipped, a new surge of competition filling his voice. His eyes darted around the twists and turns of the sewers that rushed passed them, before landing on a narrow sewer channel rapidly approaching them on their right. He instantly broke into a grin before waving for Donatello's attention.

"Fine, if you think you're so fast why dontcha take the old subway route?" he called, pointing out the off-route corridor, "I betcha can't beat me then!"

Don cast a quick glance over to his newly elected path, and his grin widened-a welcome change from the exhausted scowl he had worn all week.

"Challenge accepted!"

Already Don had adjusted his course, now aiming for the small tunnel. Even his earlier proclamations in the lair that he was feeling too ill to do the dishes weren't enough to slow him down.

"Careful I don't make you cry when I win!" his words continued to hang in the air, even as he darted inside the narrow tunnel with a final salute, the sound of his wheels clattering after him.

With a greater sense of pride at stake, Mikey propelled himself faster, his determined grin spreading wider than before.

"Hurry up, guys!" His voice whipped behind him as he urged his remaining brothers on, "Don won't shut up for weeks if he gets to the end first!"

"You'd better be the one to hurry up, Mikey." Leo didn't even bother to shout as he found himself less than a foot behind his youngest sibling, a cocky expression plastered on his own face, "Or Don won't be the only one leaving you in his dust!"

The older turtle couldn't resist a fairly evil chuckle as he abruptly careened in front of Michelangelo, the two swerving in unison, neck and neck, down their usual route.

Raphael frowned as his brother's visibly picked up speed, quickly adjusting his own momentum in order to keep up. He wasn't particularly fond of finding himself in the position of picking up the rear and he wondered why he always allowed himself to be convinced to participate in his brothers' stupid races. Although fast in his own right, his talents lay more in the realm of brutal butt-kicking, as opposed to running away with his tail between his legs.

Still, his position allowed him the perfect vantage point to catch a final glimpse of the new course Don had careened off down alone before disappearing entirely. He debated for a couple of seconds before he swiftly swerved to the right, altering his own route to slip down the same narrow tunnel behind him.

Neither Mikey nor Leo paid much notice as they continued down the original path, entirely consumed now in their own personal competition.

Even during their younger years, Raph had never quite been able to quell the sudden jolt of paranoia that snarled in the pit of his stomach whenever one of his brothers was suddenly out of sight. He pretended not to recognize how these feelings had intensified tenfold after Leo's own seeming abandonment only six months ago. But that unease was enough to persuade him that Don really shouldn't be boarding down the subway route alone.

Already the hollow clatters of Don's skateboard rattling down the sewer were beginning to grow faint, and Raph squinted through the murkiness as he continued to follow.

"Donnie!" his voice ricocheted off the walls, echoing back as a frustrating taunt.

Raphael had never really noticed how he tended to react for Don's safety just half a second faster than for either Leo or Mikey, even throughout childhood. Usually he simply attributed it to a natural instinct to protect his physically weakest sibling, as it was far easier than taking the time to truly examine any deeper motives he might have held toward the genius turtle.

But if Don's own involvement with the Nightwatcher escapades had anything to do with it, then Raph was only fueled further in a heightened guilt-driven protectiveness over his little brother.

He called out again, and with an annoyed growl as his calls were once again met with silence, he put on an extra burst of speed, and flew through the sewer.

-oOo-

Don didn't bother checking behind him as he zipped down the sharp curve of the tunnel. At times, the growing feeling that it seemed to be getting easier and easier for his brothers to forget him once he was out of sight grew almost unbearable, and he struggled in vain to quash such thoughts from seeping into his mind.

Sometimes he wondered if the only reason any of them even bothered to bring him home at the end of the day was because he always arrived at the end of the race first…

Although he quickly convinced himself of the ridiculousness of such ideas, the niggling sensation was enough to motivate him to speed up even faster, and everything blurred around him in a tumult of dark brick and icy water.

He forced himself to suppress the reoccurring feeling of uselessness and other conflicting thoughts, growing lost in freedom of the rushing air that whipped around him. Still, he couldn't help but wonder just when exactly he had lost the ability to fully release that old suspicion of inadequacy amongst his own brothers.

While it was generally deemed safer to remain near the tracks, the moment the sewers led him to the abandoned subway route Don jumped his board up to the platform. The sound of his wheels clacking against the concrete echoed loudly as he took a moment to revel in the sin of a completely open pavement.

The graffiti on the walls blurred into a giant, bright splash of color around him as he whipped by. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of a particularly vivid spray-painted mural, and found himself skidding to a complete stop instead.

Garish hues of blue, yellow and red filled his vision. Gang tags and early artistic renderings of amateur street artists clouded together in a chaotic mass of visual noise.

It all faded uselessly away.

The blurred lines of color were no more than a mere afterthought that barely flitted across the young turtle's mind. His attention zeroed in on a single large poster, glossy and crisp, plastered prominently across the dull brick.

Raphael could hear the muted racket of Don's board wheels somewhere out ahead of him and knew the younger turtle had made it to the subway. This wasn't particularly alarming, as Don had always been wickedly fast. The abrupt silence, however, snagged his attention.

He couldn't believe it. Donnie was already out of there that fast?

Irked at the thought of being so far behind his brother, Raphael didn't slow as he reached the opening of the tunnel. He immediately jumped up to the platform, unknowingly just as Don had done not thirty seconds earlier. The lack of any sign of his younger brother forced him into foregoing the safety of stealth to gain an edge in speed.

With a determined bolt, he wheeled around one of the large, square columns that were positioned purposefully throughout the subway.

Donatello stood in silence, frozen into place, staring hard at the poster before him. His skateboard had rolled off a few feet away, though he hadn't paid it much attention or even seemed to remember what exactly he had been doing just a moment ago.

He didn't blink. His thin chest hardly moved. With a small, involuntary twitch of his fingers, he slowly began to lift up his hand.

A moment later, he was run over by a truck.

Ordinarily, Raph made a habit of throwing his full body weight at his brothers only when their safety was involved. Even he didn't really think it was quite the most appropriate thing to do when Donatello was just standing around, minding his own business. It was even less appropriate when Donnie was unaware of him entirely.

Unfortunately, the skateboard beneath his feet seemed to think otherwise on the matter.

Slamming into the ground, Don's shell gave a loud crack, sharp jolts of icy pain instantly shot through his spine. He grimaced as his equally shocked assailant crushed his plastron before quickly rolling off.

Don tried to pull himself upright, but only managed to a rather wind-knocked groan, "Raph..."

"Ugh, man, that hurt me almost as much as it hurt you."

With a grunt, Raph extracted himself from where he had bulldozed into his younger brother. He gave a small shake of his head before pulling himself up into a sitting position, though his eyes continued to cross as he blinked deliberately.

"Sorry Donnie." Raph panted as he reached over to Don's outstretched hand and yanked him to sit up beside him. "I guess I didn't see ya there."

Don closed his eyes, steadying himself for a few seconds, "No problem." he mumbled sarcastically, before woozily pulling himself to his feet.

Still battling a wave of embarrassment, Raph slowly followed suit, surreptitiously glancing around for his skateboard. He quickly spotted Donnie's just a few feet away, but his own seemed to have maliciously disappeared after it had flown out from under him.

He continued to pace the walkway for a few more seconds, the months of work spent on customizing the board still fresh in his mind and he mentally grimaced at the thought of having lost it so easily. With a sigh of resignation, Raph peered down onto the tracks. "Hey, do you see my board? Figures I'd lose that fucking piece of…"

He frowned as he looked back around, noticing that his sibling had returned to the exact same position he had been standing in before the collision.

Body slack and arms hanging loosely by his sides, Don seemed to have already forgotten he was no longer alone. His crimson eyes were once again locked onto the sleek surface of the wide poster, his mouth slightly parted.

Without saying a word, Raph stepped over, peering over Don's shoulder to catch a peek at whatever it was that had so captured his younger brother's interest.

Raphael paled.

Instantly he reached forward, pulling Don by the arm urgently, albeit a bit rougher than intended. The abrupt jerk seemed to do the trick though as Don at last peeled his eyes from the slick poster board glued to the wall.

"Hey," Raph gave another tug, "let's get outta here. You know Leo and Mikey are gonna bitch about us bein' late. C'mon."

Snapped from his trance, Don gave a small shudder, before quickly pulling his arm back away.

"No."

The younger turtle hardly spared a glance at the other, his dark eyes returning to the image staring back at him. Carefully, he once again drew his fingers up toward the neon yellow markings that littered the poster, gently tracing his fingers against them, before at last letting his hand fall away with a soft sigh.

Raphael watched Don intensely, his shoulders beginning to bristle as he watched his younger brother's attention entirely consumed by the foreign marking, ignoring him completely. He reached out, ready to pull him back again, when he stopped as Don suddenly turned back around, rolling his eyes with a half-hearted shrug "No, I don't know where your board disappeared to when you decided to test Newton's 3rd law. Just use mine."

Though a flood of relief swept through Raph, he gave an annoyed growl at Don's haughty attitude. He crossed his arms with an irritated scowl, "Ha ha, very funny. Knock it off, Donnie. I'm serious, we gotta get back."

Returning his own glower of irritation, Don stepped passed Raph, their shoulders almost brushing as he reached down to pick up his woe begotten skateboard.

"Why are you suddenly in such a rush?" Don's voice was tight, "I thought you were racing with Mike and Leo anyway, why did you follow me? You do realize I know my way through the tunnels, right? I can navigate my way back alone."

Raph's patience had been tried all week by his younger brother's insistence that he was too sick to do anything other than mope around, and Don's sudden decision to come back with an attitude right when he was pulling his best caring big brother act was tugging on his final nerve.

Just about ready to drag the unwilling turtle back to the lair by any means necessary, he was interrupted as Don gave a sudden jerk back. A loud, throaty cough shook the younger turtle's entire body, violent enough that Raph stopped mid-step.

With a barely suppressed sigh, Raph shook his head.

"Come on, Donnie."

He reached out and placed a steady hand on his little brother's shoulder.

Instantly, Raph bit back a wince at the iciness of Don's skin beneath his fingers. His brows knitted together at the intense shudders that began to wrack through Don's thin frame due to the sheer force from every powerful cough.

He couldn't remember if Don had been that cold just a few minutes earlier, but he wasn't going to waste much time thinking about it now, "I'm sure the guys are waitin' for us. An' Splinter'll kill me if he found out I let ya stay out here alone, coughin' like ya are."

For a moment Raph was certain Don would resist and he braced himself for the less than pleasant task of arguing with an irritable and sniffling Donatello. Yet his brother only stared back at him once the coughs subsided, his eyes bleary and red before he gave a final forfeiting cough and a weak nod.

"Fine."

Raphael rolled his eyes, yet there was a relief in his voice as he nodded. "Good."

Keeping one hand firmly planted on the back of Don's shell, he steered his little brother away from the wall. After a few paces he reached over and retrieved the skateboard from Don's grasp, tucking it securely under his own arm.

As Raph carefully guided Don down into the tracks to begin their trek home, he stole a glance over his shoulder.

The neon luster of the printed sign knowingly glowered back at him. Taunting him.

He reluctantly tore his gaze away as another sharp cough tore through Don, the hollow sound echoing through the winding tunnels.

The soft footsteps of the pair were quick to recede into the murky, common noises of the sewer, easily drowned by the empty wind that rapidly picked up, whistling its way through the empty subway station. It stirred at the dead leaves and tattered remains of old advertisements and newspapers, before tugging at the slick surface of the single bright colored poster, left behind in the shadows by the two terrapin brothers.

As nightfall grew, the subway fell further into darkness.

Only a soft, yellow glow broke through the stillness, a soft hum soon growing to accompany it. The hazy light suddenly crackled, snapping with energy as it continued to grow with intensity. Writhing and swirling, the fluid shapes outlined symbols on a poster, revealing the message within.

A message that one turtle had long since hoped had been destroyed forever.

A message from the past.


	3. Three

_Splinter had finally left the lair._

_That in and of itself was a fairly unusual occurrence, but coupling this phenomenon with the absence of all three of his brothers simultaneously had proven even trickier than first anticipated. Rarer than a blue moon, he knew this would be his only opportunity for a very long time, and already enough time had been wasted._

_Master Splinter did not keep a habit of locking or forbidding any room in the lair from his sons. Instead, it was like an unspoken rule that had created an invisible barrier around the cramped, but rather large closet tucked away in the corner of their home. A closet that contained every life altering artifact or relic from the turtles' past. _

_The power and mystery emanating from these objects seemed to permeate through the closed door as the young turtle pressed his palms against the brittle wood. It was as though he could feel a threatening buzz throbbing out, sending tingling shocks through his fingertips and up his spine-electric pulses that forced a shiver through his body._

_Either real or perceived, there was no turning back now. _

_Closing his eyes, he focused on his heartbeat as he stood squarely before the threshold of the room. He recalled that the last time he had stepped inside had been with the sole intention of releasing the final hold of a most painful chapter from his life. He remembered how badly he had wanted to believe those questions of turmoil and torment had been severed from him forever. The gentle hands of Master Splinter, freeing him from that wretched object which had thrust such a shadow of doubt over his own identity. _

_Only this time Master Splinter couldn't help him find the way back home._

_With a grunt he squeezed his eyes even tighter,_ '_Please understand, Sensei…_'

_Grimly setting his jaw, he forced his eyes open and pressed against the thin sliver of wood. It was harder to open than he anticipated, a difficulty that had nothing to do with the actual door. As it silently swung open, he audibly gulped before taking an apprehensive step inside. _

_Nostalgia, coated in bitterness, invaded his senses. _

_He longed for the time when Master Splinter could easily remove from him whatever clouded his heart and thoughts. How absolutely he could rely on his father to relieve him from the doubts and pain that hung over him and their family. He didn't quite know when he and his brothers suddenly became too old for such comfort, or when the realization settled in that the aging rat could no longer protect him from the one thing which could permanently alter their lives forever. _

_Suppressing such unproductive thoughts, he forced himself to step deeper inside the room. The temperature dropped and a wave of goose bumps broke out across his arms. He had expected it to smell stale, but it didn't. It smelled like nothing at all. A nothingness which proved to be even more unnerving. _

_He realized with a strange sense of pride how every object within this room had, in one way or another, shifted their relationship as a family. They had survived. They had persevered, striking a bond together impenetrable from the inside out. _

_Of course, that hadn't always been the case. _

_He turned his eyes upon the magical scepter leaning against the wall, an ancient artifact which had transported him and his brothers to Japan over a year ago. It almost seemed to glow with an alluring façade of warmth, an uneasy comfort which felt out of place in the shadow-filled room._

_With a frown he tore his gaze away and looked deeper into the organized room._

_He was well aware he was avoiding the glare of the Shredder's mask, which sat innocently and intimidating upon the narrow shelf opposite of where he stood. His eyes skimmed disinterestedly across the other trophies stored within, glossing over a Foot Ninja mask, before he paused upon pieces of heavy, gray armor. He stared at the dull metal until it no longer meant anything, the pieces no more than a mass of history and broken memories that didn't really feel like they belonged to him anymore. _

_He was well aware of what object it was he was truly eluding. Its taunting presence tugged at the peripheral of his vision, refusing to be ignored. His hands balled into fists, as though forcing the memory away of what it had felt like in his hands before he had surrendered it to Splinter._

_It wasn't what he needed. _

_It wasn't what he had stepped inside this room for. To once again break the bonds of trust he had so diligently built between himself and his brothers, only to find it still such a fragile and precarious balance to maintain. _

_His chest tightened and he knew he could no longer avoid the reason he had stepped inside. The object which had threatened to tear their family apart for good just a mere six months ago. The object that should never have existed in the first place, and the very same one he needed to steal back from the shadows in deadly secrecy._

_His sharp eyes met the cold stare of the dark helmet. Its sleek metal buffed to a shine, glinting at him with a malice all its own. Even before he lifted his hands to remove it from the shelf, a stark aura of anger and violence radiated out, the pressure nearly pushing him back. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of such musings. Without another thought, he deftly picked it up and nearly dropped it. It felt heavier than he remembered. He ran his fingers gingerly over the brim, the surface actually quite pleasing to the touch, a sensation that was most unsettling._

_Inhaling, he lifted it up and turned it around._ _It was now or never. _

_He settled the helmet on his head, and his hands fell away. He realized his eyes were closed again and he reluctantly forced them open._

'_The Nightwatcher will patrol the streets of New York one last time.'_

-oOo-

"Michelangelo, I told you to get that accident waiting to happen out of my face!"

The younger turtle managed to duck out of range from his older brother's agitated swipe with a yelp. He nimbly balanced on the tips of his toes, barely succeeding in preventing the steaming hot cocoa to spill over the sides of the dangerously full mug he had shoved under said older brother's nose for the fifth time in a row.

"Well 'scuse me! Don't have to take it out on the hot chocolate! S'not my fault you're still cranky cause I whipped your tail at boarding the other day."

Donatello at last lifted his eyes from the sea of loose papers and textbooks that blanketed the kitchen table before him. He opened his mouth to retort, before quickly snapping it shut with a sigh, looking fully as though the mere effort of arguing was headache-inducing.

Don decided to shift his approach.

"Why are you awake, anyway?" he muttered as he shifted one stack of papers over to another, shuffling a few things before the neon glow of the digital clock winked out at him. 1:30 a.m. "I thought you had decided to turn in for the night?"

"Eh, not tired, " Mikey nudged one of the nearby chairs with his toe, flipping it around so he could straddle it casually as he cradled the mug in both his hands, "'sides, it's kinda impossible to sleep with Leo snoring through the walls. I don't know if it was all the cheese he ate earlier or what, but he sounds like a growling lawnmower." He gave a shrug, "Plus I thought I saw Raph take his trench coat when he headed out earlier. He doesn't get all gussied up for just any date on the town, so he'll probably be gone awhile. You didn't see him?"

Don squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing them as their dryness was beginning to blur his vision, "What? No." He sighed, glancing back over at his brother once more, looking twice as tired as before, "I'm not sure. Maybe? I suppose it doesn't matter. Why did you ask that again?"

A frown creased the corners of Mikey's mouth as he stared hard back at Donatello. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he inched his chair a few centimeter's closer to the edge of the table, taking note of the heavy bags under his brother's eyes. He contemplated sneaking Don a soda, despite Master Splinter's forbiddance that Don drink any caffeine while in the midst of his lingering sickness. It was almost disturbing to notice that even Donnie wasn't immune to the stupefying effects of exhaustion, and Mikey's unease only heightened as he watched the usually vigilant and alert turtle cave into the ramblings of a numb mind. He was beginning to sound kookier than normal, and that could never be a good thing.

With a deliberate sip of his drink, Mikey tipped back his chair, glancing down at the hoard of books and crinkled papers that littered the table. Most of them were scribbled over with Don's ridiculously tiny and precise handwriting. Rows upon rows of numbers were layered and squashed upon one another, divided by short dashes or arrows every fourth or fifth line. He crinkled his nose at the swirls of calculations and formulas. Though as he examined the faint stress lines plaguing his older brother's face, he decided to feign interest.

"Hey, what're you working on?" he gazed intently over at Don, who already seemed to have forgotten his previous babbling anyway, "Can I help?"

"Go away, Mikey."

"Aw, come on." Michelangelo leaned forward, placing himself directly in Don's line of sight, "I'm serious, you don't look so good bro. I can try to help if you wanna go to sleep or something. I can alphabetize? Or uh, numeratize? Whatever, you know what I mean."

Don looked ready to shoo his younger sibling away once more, but at the sincerity he found on the other turtle's face, his weary expression softened. He shook his head, "No, I'm alright. Really. I'll have this completed in just a few more minutes."

With a roll of his eyes that indicated he knew exactly how long Don's 'few minutes' usually lasted, Mikey tipped his seat forward just a bit more, "But what if I just-"

The shrill shriek of the phone ripped through the air.

Mikey's head snapped up and in an episode of sheer adrenaline induced panic, he found himself juggling the blaring phone, tipping his chair and balancing his hot cocoa. A moment later he discovered his multi-tasking had somehow gone terribly askew.

"Michelangelo!"

The legs of his chair screeched back with a deafening urgency as Mikey once again barely managed to avoid the furious swipe of his older brother, who now stood with a stack of dripping papers clutched in one shaking fist, "What have I told you about bringing liquids near my work!?"

"I'm sorry!" Mikey staggered back a few paces, clutching his now empty mug to his chest protectively. It was his only Batman mug and he'd lost many an awesome cup thanks to Don's apparent vendetta against soggy papers and the brothers who cause them.

"I'll help you dry them off!"

"Just _go_."

"But what about…"

Mikey held up the phone, only to be met with a loud dial tone. He shot a glance back over at Don, but his older brother was only glaring at him and with a forceful gesture, pointed him out of the kitchen. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Mikey turned where he was directed.

"Man, I was only trying to help." He muttered as he swung himself over the back of the couch in the living room. He settled himself amongst the cushions, still mumbling loud enough, "Didn't know it was against the rules to have hot beverages in the kitchen of all places."

Sulkily, he used one of his toes to press the power button on the remote. The music for the early morning Channel 6 News broadcast filled the room, and the familiar face of April O'Neil flared to life on their big screen television.

Don thumped back into his seat, the mass of mushy papers falling from his grasp. With a frustrated sigh he held his head in his hands, scowling at the mess.

"Thanks a lot Mikey…" the scent of the hot cocoa was nearly overwhelming, and although Don had a rather strong affinity for the drink, he crinkled his nose in disgust as though to emphasis his utter annoyance at his younger brother's mishap. "Perfect, this is just what I need."

"Um, Don?"

Determined to ignore his younger brother, Don was already shuffling back through the piles of paper, dry and dripping alike, sorting and re-piling. He was thankful the ruined papers had mostly been those with a relatively small amount of writing on them and would take little time to replicate.

"Hey Donnie…"

Holding up a particularly dripping sheet before him, Don squinted as he stared at the blurry numbers. True, they would be easy to replicate, but only if he could read the actual inscriptions on them. He really didn't have the time to recalculate everything all over again, and he hoped he still had the original formulas saved elsewhere.

"Donatello!"

"What?!" Don finally spun around, exasperation etched in his face.

Mikey wasn't smiling.

He hadn't even moved from the couch, staring hard at the screen in front of him. Don saw what Michelangelo was pointing at and all past offenses immediately disappeared.

Both brothers stared silently at the blackened silhouette that darted off and on the screen, the blurry image caught on a cellphone camera. The image of a familiar, stocky form running across the rooftops left Don icy cold, and he was aware of the thundering of his heartbeat that nearly drowned out the voice of the newscasters.

He tried to look over at Mikey, but found himself unable to tear his gaze from the video clip. The tape was no more than five seconds long, set to replay over and over again, but it was all he needed to recognize the figure on the screen. That sleek sheen of a metal helmet glinting against the streetlights. That undeniable curve all his brothers knew so well: a large, protective shell, sheathed in black leather and steel.

There was no doubt who they were watching.

"It's…"

Mikey couldn't bring himself to nod. "We have to wake up Leo."


	4. Four

Leonardo felt sick.

His skin prickled with goose bumps traveling from his wrists to the base of his neck; but he didn't shiver. The image still on the wide television screen was silent, but it might as well have been turned up full volume as the whirlwind in his head rose to a mind-numbing shriek. He was faintly aware of Mikey standing somewhere behind him, the screech of Don's chair as he too stood up to join him. But they blurred. He forgot what time it was.

As one of four brothers, Leo had long since grown accustomed to being awoken at all hours of the night, intentional or not, for one reason or another. But the touch of Mikey's gentle, albeit sudden, shaking held an urgency Leo had instantly recognized. Within seconds of hearing the youngest turtles hushed voice calling out his name through the darkness, Leo had sprang into an instant, wary consciousness.

Stepping out of his room he promptly caught sight of Donatello. His third youngest brother sat with his head in his hands, bent over the kitchen table. The avoidance of Don's gaze only increased the building dread that had begun to mull in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't bothered to glance around, the question leaving his mouth without thought.

"Where's Raph?"

It was difficult to see Mikey pull away from him, staring at the floor as he thoughtlessly chewed on his tongue. More difficult yet, to catch the slight clenching of Don's jaw, the mute pleading in his eyes that begged for him to go back to sleep.

To leave this all alone.

But Mikey had stepped ahead, pointing to the darkened silhouette on the television. Seven times the news clip played before Don suddenly snatched up the remote, shutting it off before slamming the controller hard down on the kitchen table.

Leo only snapped his gaze away from the screen once it sprang to blackness, the image disintegrating into nothing. For a few moments he couldn't move from where he had become rooted to the floor. Although the wide, black screen stared back at him, he could still see the shadowy figure leaping across its surface. He fought back nausea as an icy chill slowly crept up his spine. Swallowing thickly, he forced himself to focus instead on his two youngest brothers standing apprehensively before him.

As he turned and looked upon their waiting faces, he felt his heart drop. He had no answers for them this time.

Don inched forward, both of his hands extended carefully, as though he were trying to shush him. It had always irritated Leo when Don did that. Not that he didn't appreciate Don's approach when dealing with an irate Raphael or over-stimulated Mikey, but when Don spoke with his gentle, smooth, somewhat condescending voice, Leo understood it for what it was; a tactic the younger turtle had perfected through the years when his own emotions grew too overwhelming for him to cope with.

"Listen, jumping to conclusions won't accomplish anything right now. It's late. We should take some time to step back and analyze the situation. Nothing will change in a few hours. When Raph returns, we -"

"I'm going to find him."

"What?"

Leo pulled his gaze away from Don, even as he heard the calm slip from his younger brother's voice. The note of panic in his normally calm sibling sent a tremor of guilt through him, yet he looked away as he set his jaw in resolution.

"Leo, it's late." Donatello quickly stepped in front of him, even as he struggled to remain composed, "This video could be days old for all we know. You know that April's always saying how often she's recapping events long after they've actually happened. This isn't breaking news, I hardly think it was their top priority story," Don shook his head helplessly, "Raph's more than likely returning home anyway. Nothing good can be achieved by going out and confronting him now."

For a moment Leo only cast his gaze on Don, the haze silhouette of Mikey in the peripheral of his vision. There was sorrow. This he could see.

And something else.

Raphael had not only betrayed him. He had betrayed them all.

Fiery jolts of pain shot through Leo's veins, as though Raphael had taken his sais and stabbed them through his heart himself. He could feel his fingers trembling, and he quickly curled them into tight fists, locking his arms by his side. He tore his gaze from his brothers before they could glimpse the tears that now burned his eyes.

"All the easier for me to find him then."

His voice was hard, and he stepped around Don, their shoulders bumping as he returned to his bedroom. His heartbeat crashed in his skull, the darkness of the room suffocating him instantly. But he didn't allow himself a chance to pause, no time to second-guess.

His fingers curled around the hilts of his swords. He swallowed hard, straightening up as he strapped on his belt, and sheathed them into place.

He had retrieved his weapons many times before. He knew their glinting shimmer as their dark blades sparkled when he held them out effortlessly. And the distinct clack of metal hitting his shell had filled his head countless times.

Only this time was different.

This time, as the twin swords locked into place, an overbearing dread settled heavily in the pit of his stomach.

He stepped out of the darkness, out to where his baby brothers still waited for him, and he remembered. His throat tightened as his eyes landed on Donatello. His gentlest sibling, and the only one who had never had to bear witness to the sight of a brother gearing up with the intention to hunt down another brother.

At least, Don had never seen the hunt from this side before. Leo could only hope Don had long forgotten the existence of such a painful history.

Focusing his attention on the entrance of the lair, Leo purposefully stepped forward. There was only one brother who truly deserved to be hunted down. Only one who would choose to a forge a path for himself of anger and deceit.

"You both stay here. I won't be gone long."

He paused as Mikey's tentative voice suddenly spoke out, "Wait, um, shouldn't we wake up Master Splinter?"

"No."

"But Leo-"

"I mean it." Leo shot his brothers a final glance over his shoulder, his voice slicing through the lair. He held their gazes, as though attempting to give them a small bit of reassurance. Yet he quickly turned away, afraid his face would deceive him and reveal the writhing turmoil of betrayal that sickeningly rose up from the pit of his stomach and caused his eyes to sting.

Resolute, he turned and stepped into the darkness alone.

"This is a score the Nightwatcher and I need to settle once and for all."

-oOo-

Even after Leo had left, Mikey continued to watch the empty doorway.

He secretly willed for either of his oldest brothers to come waltzing back in. Preferably Raphael, as even his late night obnoxiousness was preferable to Leo's dour attitude at the moment. At least then, just maybe there might a chance Raph could truly explain this entire mess.

Of course, neither of them did, and he was only shaken from his thoughts by the loud thud of Don, reoccupying the kitchen once more.

His papers and books were piled high in a haphazard heap as he quickly shoved them all to a corner. Mikey could see Don's agitation, the sharp, quick movements and he could hear the subtle murmur of swear words grumbled in the back of his throat.

Mikey's eyes wandered and stared longingly in the direction of Splinter's room. Only Don's harried presence kept him standing where he was, resisting the urge to wake his Sensei from the comforting depths of slumber.

He avoided looking at the gaping black hole of the television screen. The five second video clip of the Nightwatcher, caught in the unforgiving light cast out from a streetlamp, was stamped in his memory forever. Instead, he looked back over at Don, not quite sure what to do with himself.

He watched as Don finished shuffling all his work into a single stack, mutter to himself, then pull a sheet out from the middle of the stack, causing papers to go flying all over again. Mikey grimaced as his brother repeated this sequence three more times, never finding whatever it was he was apparently hoping to find. Although the younger turtle seriously doubted the solution to Leo and Raph's feud was scribbled somewhere in that mass of crinkled worksheets and countless numbers.

Hesitant, Mikey cautiously began to approach Don, not wanting his third and final brother to completely lose it, since apparently Raph and Leo already had. Mikey took comfort in knowing that Don was probably already applying his 200+ IQ into figuring out some impossible to understand, incredibly awesome, mad-scientisty solution that would inevitably save them all from this growing train wreck. He half expected the genius turtle to suddenly whip out some new high-tech gizmo that could contact the others, find out where they were and stop this entire disaster before it completely blew up beyond repair.

Mikey stopped walking.

Duh.

Without a word, he turned back to the sofa, scavenging through the cushions before he recovered his T-Phone and flicked it open. Although his eldest brother's instructions still rang in his head, he chewed on the inside of his cheek for only a second before he pressed the speed-dial button to Leo's own cell.

A shrill ring shot through the lair, and Mikey's head snapped up. His heart plummeted as he realized the noise was coming from Leo's room.

Figures.

"Um, Don?"

Mikey was quiet as he turned back toward the kitchen. Though Don wasn't typically the type to get spooked easily, Mikey was beginning to feel not much of anything was really making sense among his brothers tonight. It was better not to risk it. But he stopped, nearly jumping himself when he saw that Don had ceased his previous skittering about, and was now staring at him with a strange sort of intensity.

An unexpected chill ran up his arms, "What?"

Don didn't answer. He only continued to stare back at him, eyes wide and glassy. Mikey swallowed, hesitant. Don's mental and physical exhaustion was already blatant on his face from what seemed like endless days of his unshakable illness.

Mikey swallowed and pushed such dreary thoughts away, "So...what do we do now?"

Again, Don remained silent. He only turned his head, staring at the table with bleary, red-rimmed eyes, and Mikey regretted the question.

He knew how much his intellectual brother hated not knowing the answer.

Mikey tried to think of something better to say, but nothing came. He opened his mouth anyway, knowing something or other would eventually blurt out, as per his usual choice of action.

He ended up giving a high-pitched shriek instead as the sudden, jarring ring of the payphone abruptly sliced through the air. Don's head snapped up as he instantly glared daggers, but Mikey was more than thankful for the distraction as he leapt at the phone without thought, snatching it up with a hopeful, "Tortuga Brothers Shipping Headquarters, you box it we ship it!"

"Mikey?"

The familiar voice allowed a wave of comfort to flood through him, "April! Oh man, are you a sight for sore eyes! Or ears…"

"Is Raphael there?"

Mikey stopped, "Huh?" he noticed that Don was now staring at him intently, so he pointed at the receiver with an informative, 'its April.' before returning to the question at hand. "Uh, no. He's gone. Did something happen?"

"That's what I've been trying to find out."

April's voice was laced with worry, and Mikey wondered how many times she ever called out of pure curiosity about the going ons of their lives. Though he supposed their lives weren't really all that interesting anyway. He figured if he was April, he wouldn't call himself either.

Mikey was snapped away from his musings as he realized that April was still talking, "I had to give a strange report tonight; I tried to call you guys before I went on air but no one picked up. It was about the Nightwatcher…is everything okay? Is Raph alright?"

Mikey hesitated, "Uh…"

"Hang up."

Mikey jumped as Don had suddenly stepped in front of him, motioning to snatch the phone away, although Mikey was quick to jerk it back away protectively.

"Stop it Don, its April. Hey-"

With an unexpected force, Donatello wrenched the phone from his younger brother's grasp, using his free arm to keep Mikey's outstretched hands at bay, "Hello, April? It's Don. Yeah, Raph's fine. Listen, we can't talk right now; I'll call you back later."

Mikey could hear April's surprised voice still speaking as Don hung up the phone with a bit more force than seemed necessary. His eyes widened as he pulled back, "What'd you do that for? Maybe she knew more than what she said on the report."

Don didn't answer, though Mikey resentfully didn't really expect one anyway. The inquisitive older turtle had the obnoxious habit of blocking out just about anything once he became too wrapped up in the weird inner workings of his own thoughts. So Mikey was surprised when Don responded with curt, "You got your nun chucks?"

He gave a hesitant nod, "Yeah…"

"Good."

Mikey watched as Don stepped over to living room, retrieving his bo from where he had propped it against the wall earlier.

"Uh…are you sure about this, bro?"

"We don't have much of a choice. Come on. Raph and Leo won't wait."

-oOo-

Don didn't know what exactly he intended on doing.

Not really.

But he had ordered Mikey out here with him and now he had the younger turtle all but following his every command at this point, so he knew better than to stop now and admit such things to his alarmingly obedient little brother.

He directed them to stop behind the dumpster of an apartment complex, crouching in the shadows as they paused to catch their breath. He hated the way Mikey look at him so expectantly, eagerly waiting and willing to go where Don directed.. It made his stomach squirm. He didn't know how Leo could stand it.

Gritting his teeth he peered around the side of the dumpster, eyeing the busy street blinking with lights a few feet away.

"We're going to have to separate. The statistical chances of finding either Leo or Raph are all but nonexistent, but we'll still have greater odds if it's two against two."

Mikey nodded, "Gotcha."

"You try to find Leo. He tends to scout the south side first, so start there. I'll search for Raphael. Keep your cell on in case I need to call you."

"I'm on it." With a salute, Mikey leapt up the fire escape, fading away across the rooftops, and almost instantly disappearing from Don's vision.

Donatello waited for a few seconds, re-evaluating his surroundings before sprinting down the alley, leaving the busier streets behind. It was easier to run on a solid surface than jagged rooftops and think at the same time, but he was soon forced to spring up to them anyway as the short alley met another busy road, and the bustling crowds of people grew too close for comfort.

Only once he was certain he had placed a good amount of distance between himself and his younger brother, did Don finally skid to a stop. Though he shivered against the biting wind, he ignored it as he reached into his belt and pulled out his T-Phone. A few select button pushing, and the screen for his GPS tracking app flared to life. He only berated himself that it was Mikey who had the idea to use their phones first. Still, it was probably the first time he was thankful that his younger brother had characteristically zoned out, thus forgetting Don's lecture on how to use this feature.

He could see Mikey's signal, swiftly careening off in some random direction. His eyes were quick to latch onto the second beeping light on the screen.

Raphael.

Good. Mikey was putting more and more distance between them. He could only hope the orange-clad turtle really would stumble across Leonardo, but for now Don knew he only had limited precious time left to find Raph not only first, but alone.

Location in mind, Don snapped the phone shut and sprinted forward once again. His temples pounded as he ran, the twinkling lights of the city below blurring around him in a barrage of white and yellow. A sharp wind whipped at his bare arms, the morphing of the seasons into a bitter winter evident in its piercing bite. Although he shivered, he shook it off as his eyes scanned the crowds. Yet his target seemed to remain ever elusive, just out his grasp. He continued on, ignoring the increasingly choking sensation squeezing his throat.

The night passed through its coldest hours and exhaustion rapidly began to clamp down on the already ill-begotten ninja. Dawn was swiftly approaching, and still the crowds refused to fully dissipate, the honking, screeching and blinking lights encircling Don with a suffocating grasp.

Confusion settled in.

The streets somehow looked identical, blurred together until he no longer knew where he had already searched. Every twenty minutes or so he would re-check the coordinates, Raph's signal slowly growing closer, and yet somehow always managing to evade his frantic search.

Perhaps Leo had already found Raph. Or Mikey had managed to stop him.

Were they all still wandering around, disjointed, at various places of the city?

Maybe Raph had returned to the lair hours ago. Maybe they all had.

Maybe they had left him.

Don grunted as he landed heavily on the ground below, retreating into the crooked alley in hopes for a temporary escape from the unrelenting wind. He crouched over as he squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on his ragged breathing. With a grimace he forced himself to stand, the back of his shell lightly scraping against the gritty brick wall of the building as he peered out.

The faint glow of early morning was threatening to wash upon him. This was his final hope. Raphael rarely strayed this far from his usual spots, but having exhausted every other possibility the GPS had led him down, Don refused to leave without absolute assurance his brother was not there.

His pounding head and slight vertigo forced him to stay on the ground. He blinked rapidly and shook his head when his vision grew bleary from lack of sleep and deteriorating health. The idiocy of this entire plan punched him in the gut with every step he took. The fear of what awaited him at the lair was even more excruciating.

He turned down another alley.

Raphael stood twenty feet away, bundled in his coat, moving toward the sidewalk.

Don didn't think, he only ran.

In retrospect, he assumed it had been a combination of his natural instincts and ninja training which prevented him from calling out to his older brother and alerting attention to himself. Yet he could only attribute it to pure exhaustion and desperation having a choke-hold on his common sense which led him to believe that body slamming into Raphael in order to stop him was somehow a good idea.

Don was fairly certain he had never felt more physically insignificant in his life. He recalled bear hugs from Mikey with more power and force behind them than the fatigued tackle he had barely managed to impart on his burly older brother. At least it had gotten the job done.

Mostly.

Raph didn't so much as stumbled back from the sudden flying leap of his younger sibling. However, the sudden attack of a stranger from the shadows ignited an instantaneous defense.

He spun around, grabbing at his assailant and slammed Don forcefully against the wall, a powerful fist pulled back.

"Stop!" Don's hands shot up, shielding his face.

Raphael's eyes widened, "Donnie?"

He stood frozen, forgotten fist still clenched in midair as he stared in disbelief at the weary face of his younger sibling.

Don shoved Raph back, head still pounding from the sudden whiplash of having hit the wall with such intensity. He groaned quietly, struggling to reposition himself. His steps faltered Raph's hands shot out to steady him.

"We have to get away from the street." Don mumbled, still cross-eyed from the impact.

Raph hurriedly pulled them back a few paces, both of them knowing the last of the night's shadows would abandon them soon, a sting of fear lacing his words, "Donnie, what're you doin' here? Are you by yourself?"

The exhausted turtle shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He gripped Raph's shoulders for balance. "Leo…he's coming." He paused, his rampaging heartbeat having not quite caught up with his thoughts just yet, and he sucked in a deep breathe, hoping to quell the gasps.

"What?" Raphael had tensed beneath Don's cold palms, his tone spiking, "Now?"

Don nodded, though he quickly stopped when the motion only brought his dizziness to nausea inducing levels, "He saw…I have to tell you…"

"He saw what?" Raph's grip tightened as Don continued to shiver, "Is he here? Where's Mikey?"

"They…he's…"

"Don, what happened to ya? Breathe man, ya don't look so good-"

"Will you please shut up for one moment!?"

Donatello wrenched himself back; his hands clenched in fists that he knew meant nothing. "I need you to listen to me. Leo's been looking for you all night. But he's not thinking straight."

The words weren't coming as Don needed them too. They felt scattered. Uncontrolled.

His mind clouded with confusion, fear; he could feel the words bubbling up, only to lodge at the last second in the back of his throat. There was only pure exhaustion, more sickness filling his mind. He could see the clip on the television replaying in his head like a nightmare, the face of Raphael right before him, and yet he couldn't seem to be able to piece them both together.

He knew Raph wouldn't wait long. Either the annoyance of being yelled at or the concern for Don's pathetic state would prod his older brother into action and Don would lose his chance.

Don exhaled slowly.

One more try.

He opened his mouth, the words cut off abruptly by the sudden shimmer of metal slicing the air between them. The shuriken hit its mark with precision, wedged deep in the brick wall opposite the two brothers, and both their heads snapped up to its wielder.

Don's felt his stomach drop to his stomach, "Leo…"

"Hey!" Raph had jumped back, hands already balled in tight fists as he glared up at the eldest turtle, "Have ya lost your goddamn mind!? Waddya think you're doin'!"

Leo leapt from the rooftop, landing squarely in front of Raph, forcing him to take another step back. Although his body remained cool and composed, his eyes screamed with accusation and hurt.

"I told you to remain in the lair." His gaze never once waivered from Raphael, even as he spoke directly to Don.

"Leo, please. Wait."

"How could you do this again?" Leo's shoulders bristled as he blatantly ignored Don's pleas, his voice hardening as Raph visibly began to pull back defensively, "After what you put everyone through last time? What you put _me_ through?"

"What are ya flappin' your gums about Leo?" Raph growled. His fingers twitched near his belt as Leo began stepping toward him, "What the hell is goin' on?"

"Did you think no one would find out? That you could really hide this forever?"

"Leo!" Don suddenly sprang forward, hoping to block his brother's path as the dread grew deeper and deeper with every word Leo spoke, "Please don't say-"

Leo side-stepped Don with ease, the weariness of the night having no apparent effect on his conviction. His gaze remained glued on Raphael, "What's so special about the Nightwatcher that you would abandon your family?"

Only now did Leo pause, his fists trembling by his sides. As he lowered his voice, a sharp glistening of tears reflected in his eyes, and he hissed venomously, "Are we just not worth it to you?"

A sudden panic rose in Don's throat as Leonardo's words shot a sudden understanding to Raph's face. The recognition of the situation was met with the swift glistening of twin sais, instigating the hasty draw of katana blades. "Ya wanna play this game again?"

Donatello's eyes snapped up, around, anywhere. But there was nothing he could use.

Nothing to help him.

No one who would listen.

He watched in terror as they both sprang forward. A blur of red and blue. An imminent collision that would ignite a chain reaction of sheer destruction, and set into play a destructive series of events from whence Don wasn't sure his family could survive.

A deep inhale, and no clue what he was hoping to accomplish, Don frantically raced blindly between them, not entirely sure what he would do once caught in the midst of their battle.

Brace for impact.

A less than graceful thud as a sudden intruder filled his vision. Donatello found himself defended from his own reckless attempted intervention, spun out of harm's way even as an all too familiar voice rang through the air.

"Cool it!"

Michelangelo stood firm, arms outstretched, buffering. The abruptness of his arrival was startling enough to force Leo and Raph to skid to a halt on either side of his palms. Mikey was panting slightly, eyes wide, and Don could see how his fingertips trembled as they remained outstretched, holding their two oldest brothers at bay.

A pang of guilt sliced through Don when he saw how tired Mikey looked, the stress a foreign bombardment on the youngest turtle's face, and Don berated himself for not leaving his little brother back home.

When he met Mikey's eyes he realized he hadn't been the only one afraid that Raph and Leo wouldn't have stopped.

"Just chill out!" Mikey snapped in a way that sounded more relieved than anything. His arms lowered cautiously before he suddenly pointed skyward.

Only now did the three other turtles seem to grow remotely aware of the full morning glow washing over them, its early rosy mist wrapping them in a hazy sheen. Mikey stepped forward, and without question pulled Don's arm over his shoulder. Instantly Don's legs gave out; the sudden support all he needed for his strength to flee him entirely. He leaned on Mikey without restraint.

Mikey glanced back, shooting his other brothers a fierce glower.

"You guys can bash each other's skulls in later! But we gotta get back! Like, _now_."


End file.
